


Tryin' Not To

by IAmANonnieMouse



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: AU, Band Fic, Cameo appearances of Mal and Dom Cobb, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rock Star AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 19:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14984138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse
Summary: He's a veteran now. A professional. He knows every act, every cue.But still. Still, still,still,he can't help but imagine it's real.





	Tryin' Not To

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flosculatory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flosculatory/gifts).



> For the amazing flosculatory, a birthday gift that is nearly a month late because I'm me and wisdom teeth, pain meds, and a busy summer schedule just never, ever mesh. I'm SO SORRY this is so late!! :hides under bed:
> 
> Love you, boo! <3  
> ~Mousie

The screams from the crowd are just white noise to Arthur now. When they first started this, Arthur was still an awkward teen, clutching his guitar in his hands and blindly following his supernova of a friend. But now, he's a veteran. A professional. He knows every act, every cue.

He walks onstage, waves at the screaming masses and heads toward his microphone. Behind him, he hears Dom settling in at his drum kit, tapping out a few beats and shouting words their audience can't hear. Across the stage, Mal watches Dom with a smirk as she strokes the neck of her bass.

Arthur knows all of this, because it's the same every night. He could play Dom or Mal without a second thought, become the character their fans expect to see.

His eyes drift to center stage, and he quietly admires the way Eames' shirt hugs his arms, his chest. Eames shines as bright as the sun, so much it almost hurts to look at him, but Arthur's gotten used to being blind.

Eames is ahead of him, but he stops at center stage and pivots, facing Arthur with a grin. Arthur shifts his guitar so it's resting against his back, the strap crossing his chest, and he meets Eames with open arms.

The audience screams even louder, but Arthur barely notices. To Arthur, all that matters is Eames' arms around him, Eames' mouth against his, Eames' hands cupping his face.

It's a messy kiss, but it always is, and when they separate, Arthur playfully grins and takes his position behind his microphone, sliding his guitar back around until it's resting comfortably in his hands.

Eames turns back to the audience with a smirk. "Sorry," he says, sexy and rakish and charming. "I just couldn't resist."

The audience screams in response, and Eames laughs as Dom begins to tap out the beat of their opening song. 

"We're so happy to be here tonight," Eames says. "And to start, we'd like to share with you our new single, Gravity."

Arthur jumps in, picking out the opening riff as Eames bursts into song.

Arthur watches Eames sing, lips still tingling. He's a veteran now. A professional. He knows every act, every cue.

But still. Still, still, _still,_ he can't help but imagine it's real.

~+~+~

"Bloody hell," Eames pants, collapsing onto the couch. "That was fucking amazing."

"You say that every night," Arthur reminds him. He throws Eames a towel and snorts when it lands on his face.

"I mean it," Eames says. He makes a half-hearted attempt to wipe up the sweat dripping from his face. "I love this."

"We know," Arthur says. 

Eames looks at him, lips curling. "You mean to tell me you don't like it? Playing onstage, listening to the audience roar?"

Arthur sits next to him on the couch and ignores the heat radiating from Eames' body. "Of course I like it," he says. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

Eames is quiet for a moment. "Well," he says, "I'm glad. I'd have a hell of a time finding anyone else to play for me who's as good as you."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "You just don't want your childhood friend to leave you alone onstage."

"No," Eames says, abruptly serious. "I'm saying it because you're a damn good musician. You're the best, Arthur. And you know I only work with the best."

Arthur snorts and looks away. "Yeah, that's why Dom and Mal are still in the band."

"They _were_ the best, once upon a time," Eames says.

Arthur snorts again.

"I'm working on it, okay?" Eames knocks his shoulder against Arthur's. "C'mon, time for the after party."

~+~+~

Maybe Arthur shouldn't have had that extra beer. Or maybe it was the shot that did it. Either way, the ground's looking pretty fuzzy, and Arthur isn't sure how he's still upright.

"You're totally sloshed, mate," he hears Eames say. "What, last week wasn't enough for you?"

Shit. He was supposed to be drinking to…do something. Something important, maybe?

"Arthur?" Eames murmurs, his breath tickling Arthur's ear. "You with me?"

"Yeah," Arthur somehow manages to say instead of, _Always._

"Good. We're getting you home."

Arthur lets his eyes drift shut and wonders if Eames will tuck him into bed.

He's asleep before they reach his house.

~+~+~

He wakes up to a hangover bad enough to make him want to cut his own head off. He groans and tries to move, and that's when he realizes there's another body in his bed.

He cracks open an eye and blearily stares at the body on top of his sheets.

"Eames?" he croaks.

Eames shifts. "You alive, then?"

Arthur groans. "Wish I wasn't," he mutters.

"Tough shit," Eames says and sits up. 

Without his weight pressing down the sheets, Arthur manages to roll over into a slightly less feeble position. He groans again. "Why did you let me drink so much?"

"I'm not your keeper," Eames says, voice clipped. "You're your own man, darling."

Arthur sighs. "Eames. My head hurts too much to decode you right now."

The bed shifts as Eames stands and paces across the room. Arthur has to close his eyes and try not to throw up. 

"Decode me?" Eames repeats, overly precise. "Do I often speak in code, darling?"

Arthur thinks it's probably safer to stay silent.

"You need to stop doing this, Arthur," Eames tells him. "Do you know how many nights I've had to carry you home because you're too drunk to walk?"

"Sorry," Arthur says. "Didn't mean to get in the way of your… you know." He tries to wave a hand but gives up.

Eames turns back to him. "Is that what you really think this is about?" He scoffs and shakes his head. "You—you've got some fucking nerve."

He walks out before Arthur can think of anything else to say.

~+~+~

They don't talk about it. They don't talk about anything.

Eames stops their performance at the start of shows. Arthur keeps drinking himself to sleep every night.

And still. They still don't talk about it.

~+~+~

Their fans notice. Of course they notice. Everyone pesters them with questions, asks if they broke up, or if they're finally official, or if someone's getting married.

Arthur ignores them, and so does Eames.

And as they settle onstage, Arthur runs his fingers over the strings of his guitar and remembers what it used to feel like, to hold Eames in his arms.

That same night, he skips the after party and finds the closest bar.

~+~+~

Eames comes up to him as they're traveling to the last stop of their tour. It's going to be a long ride, so Arthur has his headphones and blanket ready, but he hesitates when Eames sits down next to him.

"Arthur," he says, and _God,_ Arthur could learn to hate how well Eames' mouth curls around his name. "Arthur, we need to talk."

Arthur glances around. Don and Mal are hiding away somewhere else, and for once there's nobody hovering over them and reminding them of their schedules. It's as private as their lives ever get.

"What is it?" Arthur asks.

Eames looks at him. "You know what it is."

"You haven't had to carry me home in months," Arthur says. "So what do you care?" It's mainly because Arthur just does all his drinking at home, but that's not the point.

Eames glares. "You are such a piece of shit sometimes, you know that? You really think I was mad because I couldn't take home any fucks? Seriously?"

Arthur pulls his blanket closer around his body. "Why else would it be?"

Eames doesn't answer right away, so Arthur looks over at him. "Eames?"

"It's because of this," Eames says, and he leans in and kisses Arthur. And it's just like how they do it onstage, except it isn't. It's slow and quiet and simple and theirs.

Eames pulls away and whispers, "I've loved you since the bloody third grade, Arthur, and I thought I'd just wait around for you to notice, but I can't wait any more. And I sure as hell can't watch you drink yourself to death. So for my sake, darling, please. Let me help you."

Arthur meets Eames' eyes and stares as his entire worldview rearranges itself. "Oh," he says. He blinks and refocuses on Eames. "You love me?"

Eames smiles. "Of course I do. But I mean it." He points a finger at Arthur's face. "You're taking about forty steps away from the alcohol, and if it gets bad, I'm taking you to someone. Okay?"

Arthur smiles back. "I love you, too," he says. "But I thought you weren't interested, so I tried to drink my pain away." He laughs nervously. "I never said I was smart."

"Oh, darling." Eames runs a hand through his hair. "Well, you shouldn't need to do that anymore. But really. You thought I wasn't interested? I kiss you on stage at the start of every show."

Arthur glances away. "Yeah, but it's called stage gay for a reason."

Eames sighs softly and leans in again. "Okay, then. Just so there's nothing lost in translation or decoding or whatever the hell it is you do. I love you. And I'm about to kiss you right on this bus, in real life, and there isn't a stage in sight."

And true to his word, he does.

~+~+~

The last concert of a tour is always bittersweet. Arthur can't lie, he does love touring. He loves the excitement, the energy from the crowd. The end of a tour means it's time for them to start writing new songs, and he's always afraid he's going to run out of ideas one day, and then what would he do?

But this time. This show, the final concert of their _Inception_ tour, is about to be the best night of Arthur's entire life.

They walk onstage, same as always, but this time, when Eames comes over, it isn't fast and messy. It's quiet and deliberate, sweet and private.

The audience goes wild, but to Arthur it's just white noise. All that matters is Eames' arms around him, Eames' mouth against his, Eames' words whispered in his ear.

"I love you, darling. Break a leg."

And yeah, Mal's getting sloppy on her bassline, and they're going to have to do something about finding new people to replace their soon-to-be-fired members, but right here, right now, Arthur is playing onstage with his supernova of a best friend, and his lips are still tingling as he plays those opening notes.

He's a veteran. A professional. He knows every act, every cue. 

And now Arthur knows, this is oh-so-wonderfully _real._


End file.
